


Fortuitous

by pillow_fort_fanatic



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Blind Date, F/M, First Dates, Fluff, Picnics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-20
Updated: 2020-08-20
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:26:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26010358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pillow_fort_fanatic/pseuds/pillow_fort_fanatic
Summary: Elle is none too pleased about the prospect of a blind date with what she can only assume to be an enthusiastic fanboy. But it turns out that Bucky Barnes is more than just some guy in a too-tight hoodie...
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Original Female Character(s)
Kudos: 10





	Fortuitous

When Carlie told me that a friend of a friend of a coworker had a buddy he was trying to set up with a nice girl, and that she was calling in on that blind date I'd owed her since a stupid seventh grade game of truth or dare, I have to admit that I did not have high hopes for how the evening would go.

When she told me that we were meeting on the beach, that he'd be wearing a Captain America hoodie and that I was supposed to wear that stupid red and gold dress she'd made me buy last year when we cosplayed gender-bent Avengers to the local con, my expectations were further lowered. I was going to be stuck spending the evening with some Avengers fanatic, listening to him mansplain the ethics of heroism or the physics of Thor's hammer or some stupid crap like that.

Truth was, cosplay aside, I really didn't care one way or the other about "Earth's mightiest heroes." I was a fan of Earth, sure, and being free from the rule of some wacked-out alien race, but the Avengers were overrated as far as I was concerned, and since I was never going to meet any of them, I didn't see why it was worth wasting energy thinking about them. I faked it for Carlie, of course, because you get excited about what your BFF gets excited about, but that's all it was.

And here I was, going on a blind date with some raging fanboy in a Captain America hoodie. Just my luck.

I got to the boardwalk fifteen minutes early and scoped out the scene down at the waterfront. Lots of people, no Captain America hoodies.

Excellent.

In the meantime, since Carlie had said he'd be bringing a picnic for us to eat while the sun set—her genius idea, no doubt—I made it my mission to find a slice of pizza and a Coke so that I wouldn't be hungry for whatever fanboy brought along. It's not that picnics weren't my thing, it's just that picnics weren't my thing.

Let the professionals prepare the food, that's what I always said. Carlie always said that my complete lack of ability to cook anything remotely edible had morphed into a deep and irrational suspicion about other people's ability to prepare food and that I needed to get over myself and live a little, but that was just her opinion. Obviously she knew that I knew that she knew that I was right: no one should be trusted to make pizza except for the pizzeria guy, and no one should be trusted to make a sandwich except for the sandwich shop guy.

I spent a lot of my budget on food.

Before long, I had scarfed down some amazingly greasy pizza and was wandering barefoot down the beach with my Coke in hand, looking for Mr. Captain America Wannabe in the general area we said we'd meet. The evening was pleasant enough, and the sky was gearing up for a pretty spectacular sunset. Pity it was going to be ruined for me, but that's life. At least I wouldn't owe Carlie anymore by the time tonight was over, and I kept reminding myself of that fact to bolster my resolve.

And then, all of a sudden, there he was.

Oh. My. Gawd.

It was…it was like walking into what you expect to be a portapotty, but on the inside it's actually the Louvre and you're staring at the Mona Lisa and you're so awestruck that you don't even know what to do with yourself because this is not what you were expecting, I repeat: _this is not what you were expecting!_

The man was _gorgeous_. Like, all my clothes suddenly were in danger of falling off kind of gorgeous. The hoodie was, for one thing, way too small for him, and his biceps were practically ripping the sleeves open. His long hair was tied back in an incredibly sexy manbun, and he held himself in this crazy-attractive manner that screamed that he was so nervous but trying to be chill about it.

How the heck did Carlie know anyone worthy to even kiss the feet of this Adonis?

I'd thank her later—I'd thank her and taunt her that she didn't agree to go on this date herself later—but for the moment I somehow found the nerve to walk slowly across the sand toward him.

"Um, Bucky?"

"Ah, hey," he gave a nervous approximation of a smile. "You must be Elle."

"That's me." I held out a hand for him to shake, realizing belatedly he was holding a picnic basket in one hand and juggling a couple of beach chairs in the other. Trying to save myself but not looking cool at all, I added quickly, "Can I help you with those?" as I practically grabbed the chairs from him. Okay, so tonight was not going well, but for exactly opposite of the reasons I'd expected. Great.

"Thanks…" He eyed me strangely when he thought I didn't see, and we both headed for a clear spot in the sand. I chose to ignore it, and instead kept my hands and mind busy with setting up the chairs and settling myself down in one.

"Ah, so, you work with Carlie?"

"Carlie?"

"The friend who convinced me to come tonight. I guess you don't know each other, then."

"No, I'm afraid not."

"Ah." The silence started to get weird, not in small part because he hadn't opened the picnic basket or offered me food, so I continued, "So, how did you end up here?"

He gave me a startled look that seems disproportionate to the question. "What?"

"On this date…" My grin was so awkward that I almost grimaced, which only made it worse. I wanted to sink into the sand and die a horrible, gritty, sandy death. "Who twisted your arm into coming out to the beach to meet a total stranger?"

"Oh," he relaxed instantly, "my buddy Steve. He keeps saying I should get out more, and he finally got his way when I lost a bet and couldn't pay up. Said he'd call it even if I'd let him set me up with a date."

"What a deal." I managed a much less awkward grin at this piece of information, then went out on a limb and asked, "And the hoodie?"

He grinned back at me. "An ironic gesture on his part."

"Is he a fan of Captain America?"

"…I guess you could say that. I guess you could say I'm kind of a fan too." His eyes sparkled, for reasons I'd later find out but didn't really care much for in the moment, and I found that never had I wanted to kiss a man half so much as I wanted in that moment to make out with this total stranger.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"I see." I had no idea what I saw, but by that point I also had very little idea of what the English language was. I. Was. Smitten. "Gonna take it off?"

"The hoodie?"

"Yeah."

"Maybe not a good idea…"

"I think it's an excellent idea." First the hoodie, then the shirt, then the pants, then…

He broke away from my gaze quickly, nervously, and finally turned his attention to the picnic basket. "Are you hungry? I didn't know what you liked, so I brought a little bit of everything…"

Without those steel blue eyes on me, I found I could focus just a fraction better. At least well enough to quip, "How fortuitous: I like a little bit of everything."

"'Fortuitous' huh?"

He produced a sandwich and offered it to me. I finally noticed that he was wearing gloves, but instead of commenting on this, I accepted the sandwich with a grin. "I teach AP English. It's habit."

"AP?"

"Advanced Placement. Did they not have AP exams where you went to school?"

"Ah." He focused very intently on his own sandwich for a moment. "No," he said finally, "no, they didn't."

"Huh." The first bite of sandwich proved to be very good, and I savored it as I considered things. "To my knowledge, schools around the world offer access to AP exams, even if they don't offer the specific course. Where'd you graduate from?" I didn't look directly at him as I asked, but I glanced over out of the corner of my eye. Sure enough, the beautiful man shifted uncomfortably.

"…Brooklyn."

"Brooklyn, New York?"

"Yeah. Brooklyn, New York."

He wasn't telling me something. Plain as day. And, as is ever my nature, this made me wildly curious. "No AP exams in Brooklyn," I ventured. "Sheesh. Must have been a rough school."

All I got in response was a shrug.

"You know, I've got a cousin with kids who go to a school in Brooklyn. Maybe it's your alma mater."

"I doubt it."

Once again, something about his words hinted at a piece of information he intentionally avoiding, and my stupid, stubborn self couldn't help but dig at it. "But maybe," I cajoled. "There's always a chance. If I heard the name of the school I'd know it."

His mouth tightened. "It isn't the same school, Elle," he muttered as he tossed a piece of crust to a nearby seagull. "I guarantee you it isn't the same school, because if it was, you'd know that it doesn't have any AR classes."

"AP."

He grunted at that correction and stared out at the water. We'd both quit eating our sandwiches, and as I processed the fact that I'd just annoyed my handsome date by getting stuck on AP exams, my stomach reminded me that I wasn't even hungry to begin with.

"Sorry."

"For what?"

"For pushing."

After throwing another piece of crust, he sighed heavily. "I'm not good at this, you know. I used to be, but…"

I chewed my lip nervously a moment before screwing up my courage. "What happened?"

"A hell of a lot of time."

When it became clear he wasn't going to add anything to that, I smiled a little. "If it helps any, I've been told I'm absolutely awful at dates. So I'm more or less impressed you haven't gotten up and walked away yet. Kudos to you."

"…the sunset is beautiful tonight."

"It is."

"Back home, the sun only ever rises over the water."

"I've lived on the west coast all my life, so that sounds all wrong to me."

"The east coast isn't so bad."

"And yet, here you are."

He finally looked over at me again, and he studied me for a long moment that might have been seconds and might have been years. "And yet," he murmured, almost too quiet to be heard over the surf, "here I am."

We sat in the fiery light of the sunset, just staring at each other like lovestruck idiots, until we'd missed the sight of that terminal moment when the sun sank below the horizon line and found ourselves blinking in the growing darkness.

"Elle?"

"Yeah?"

The kiss he pulled me into then was as magical as it was unexpected, and I could have sworn there were actual fireworks going off in my head as we tasted each other. It was everything I could have hoped for and more, and then my chair tipped over toward his and all of a sudden we were both in the sand and the smashed remnants of the picnic, and the laughter was almost as good as the kiss. And then the fireworks started—real, honest to goodness fireworks shot out over the ocean and exploding into brilliant colors—and I had all the omens I needed.

I was going to be Mrs. Bucky Barnes. I was.


End file.
